A Tour of Duty
by Firinn3
Summary: Beverly is tired of touring the Federation on behalf of Starfleet. How will a surprise visit from her best friend play out?
1. Chapter 1

Travelling ceaselessly from one Federation science conference to another was taking its toll, and Dr. Beverly Crusher was tired. Not just tired, but bone-numbingly exhausted.

Absently running slender fingers through her long auburn hair, she sighed as she reviewed her notes – again. Her upcoming presentation at the Bolian Medical Sciences Conference would be her fourteenth in a little over twelve weeks.

Beverly understood the reasoning behind Starfleet insisting she present her research findings throughout the Federation. She didn't begrudge them their need to prove to the member worlds that Starfleet still held altruistic beliefs, and that not all their research was militaristic. In fact, she'd been thrilled when Admiral O'Connor had first approached her about taking her findings on tour. Her research had far-reaching implications and scientists throughout the Federation wanted to hear about it, but now she wished she had just submitted the damn paper and been done with it.

Beverly grimaced as she brought her now cold tea to her lips. She set the cup down and began to pace. The tiny guest quarters on the _USS Glasgow_ didn't allow for much, but she needed to move while thinking.

Finding the movement less than helpful, she flopped back into her chair and stared unseeing, at the bulkhead. Wide awake despite her exhaustion and trapped on a ship where she didn't know a single soul, she wished she were home on board the _Enterprise_. She missed her quarters, she missed her sickbay, and she missed the crew.

She was surprised at the depth of her melancholy. _I'm_ _a veteran Starfleet officer, damn it!_ She thought, _so why do I feel like an ensign on her first deep space mission?_ She shook her head as she realized her enforced idleness was to blame. She was used to the excitement of new missions, dealing with puzzling cases in Sickbay, and spending her remaining spare time in her research labs, not sitting in a cabin for days at a time with nothing but her own thoughts for company.

She chuckled to herself when she realized she missed working herself into exhaustion. _What would Deanna say about that?_

Thinking about her friends, she recalled her other battles with insomnia. On several occasions, the captain of the _Enterprise_ had provided her with his Aunt Adele's hot milk toddy in an effort to help her fall asleep. Each time, both the drink and the comforting company had allowed her brain to relax enough to drift off.

"That's exactly what I need," she muttered as she moved restlessly across the room. Calling out the appropriate commands she soon found herself, steaming cup in hand, staring at the face of a sleep tousled captain.

"Beverly?" came his groggy query.

"Oh, Jean-Luc, I'm sorry," she sighed. "I didn't mean to wake you. When Worf patched me through to your quarters, I assumed you were awake."

He ran a hand across his bald pate as he replied, "don't worry about it. No matter the hour, I am always happy to see you." Smiling, he added, "you know that."

Feeling the corners of her mouth lifting in response to his, she replied, "yes, but if I keep dragging you out of bed, you might begin to change your mind."

"I can assure you," he quipped, eyes twinkling, "I will never tire of waking up in my quarters to find the lovely face of my CMO gazing at me."

Beverly blushed, "Jean-Luc!"

Jean-Luc laughed, "so, to what do I owe this impromptu subspace chat?"

Leaning back in her chair, Beverly decided to be honest, "I'm tired."

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow and nodded for her to continue.

Sighing, she let her jumbled thoughts flow across the link, "I'm tired of the constant travel. I never know how long I'm staying or where my next transport is coming from. I barely have time to open my bags before I'm whisked off to an auditorium or amphitheatre to present, shuttled back to my room for a quick change in time for some formal dinner, which is followed by an uncomfortable night or three in a strange bed.

"Then there's the travel. I had forgotten how fortunate we are on the _Enterprise_. The guest quarters on these ships leave a lot to be desired. My current accommodations don't have a viewport, and don't even get me started on some of the quarters I've been assigned at the conferences."

She sighed again. "It seems all I'm doing is eating, sleeping, and speaking. I get no time to enjoy myself at the conferences, and the journeys between each one are frustratingly boring.

"I just wish it would end. I wish I didn't have to attend the Bolian Medical Sciences Conference on Tarvan IV, and I wish there weren't another six more conferences to go."

She read the sympathy in his hazel eyes and knew he understood.

Jean-Luc adjusted his bathrobe as he took a moment to frame his response, "Beverly, I understand how exhausting this must be for you."

She nodded in agreement.

"Frankly, I am little surprised at the gruelling schedule Starfleet has devised, and I can imagine the toll it is taking." He smiled, adding, "you never were good at managing boredom, and I can see you still struggle with it."

Beverly resisted the urge to make a sarcastic comment and let him continue speaking.

"I would be very disappointed to hear that you had cancelled your speaking engagement at Tarvan IV."

Puzzled, Beverly took the bait. "Why?" she asked.

Jean-Luc adopted a serious expression as he explained, "the _Enterprise_ happens to be enroute to Tarvan IV from the Delios System, and I thought some of the crew and I might be there in time to catch your presentation."

"Jean-Luc!" she smiled as all traces of her exhaustion vanished. "That's wonderful!" Thrilled at the prospect of being reunited with her friends, it took her a moment to ask, "the conference is only two days away. How come you never told me you were coming?"

Looking slightly discomfited, Jean-Luc replied, "Commander Riker thought it would be fun to surprise you."

"Oh?"

"Yes," Jean-Luc continued. "He was looking forward to seeing your reaction to our unexpected appearance." He allowed his lips to quirk as he added, "he also mentioned something about getting even for your performance at the last poker game."

She laughed, "it was just a friendly impersonation!"

"Ah," Jean-Luc replied, "but I believe it followed immediately upon the heels of you bluffing him out of his night's winnings with a pair of twos, did it not?"

Nodding at the memory, Beverly chuckled, "you should have seen his face! I don't think Terran codfish can drop their jaws that low. Besides," she added, "he deserved it. He spent the evening teasing Deanna about the ceremonial hairdo she was forced to adopt for the Ligurian negotiations."

Sharing the memory of Deanna Troi, her hair bright green and tightly braided in an ornate pattern that vaguely resembled a fiddle-head fern, they lapsed into a companionable silence.

After a few moments, feeling much better, Beverly sighed, "thank you, Jean-Luc."

"Any time, Beverly," came his sincere reply.

"Somehow the Bolian conference doesn't seem so onerous now." She smiled, "I'll see you in two days, and I promise to act surprised to see you."

He tried to mask a yawn as he agreed, "two days."

"Good night, Jean-Luc."

"Good night, Beverly."

"Crusher out," she said as she watched Jean-Luc's image fade as the screen returned to the standard Starfleet insignia superimposed on a black background. Stifling a yawn, Beverly padded into the tiny sleeping quarters, crawled under the sheets, and drifted off to sleep.

***

"How's that, Doctor?" called Lar Shring as he made a few small adjustments on the console where he was sitting.

Beverly looked over her shoulder at the twelve metre screen behind her. She scanned the images sliding by and replied, "looks good, Mr. Shring. The focus is amazing."

The Bolian technician smiled and returned his gaze to the console, "then let's try the lighting."

Taking her place behind the podium, Dr. Crusher stared at the empty seats, waiting for the spot lights to come on. Suddenly blinded, she threw up her arm to cover her eyes and backed away from the podium.

"Sorry about that!" called Shring. "I'm afraid our facilities are a little out of date. You'll have to bear with me as we get things adjusted."

Shading her eyes, Beverly squinted in the direction of Shring's voice, "I'm sure we'll get it sorted out, Mr. Shring."

***

The auditorium was rapidly filling as the senior crew of the Enterprise took their seats. Picard took a seat in the centre of a row about half way up the floor section.

"This should accord us a good view," he said as Riker and Data took their seats on either side of him.

"Sir," Data said, tilting his head as he looked around, "This auditorium has been designed to provide a clear view to all spectators from any point. As you can see from the angle of the floor, and the scaling used on the balconies, I do believe there are no…"

"Thank you, Data," Riker interjected, smiling.

Deanna Troi took her place beside Riker as Geordi sat next to Data. Glancing around, Troi asked, "Where's Worf?"

"Here," Worf rumbled from the row behind them. "I felt it prudent to sit here. It provides me with a better vantage point from which to monitor the captain's safety."

"Worf," Deanna replied, "this is a medical conference! Surely you're not expecting an attack!"

"I am always expecting an attack." Arching an eyebrow, Worf added, "predicting an unseen enemy's actions always makes the day more exciting."

Chuckling, the crew turned their attention to the front as the lights dimmed.

***

The audience erupted into thundering applause as Beverly finished her presentation. Smiling and relieved it was over, she cast her gaze into the seats, trying to locate her friends.

"Doctor Crusher?" she felt a hand on her arm. "May I present Ambassador Flirsh?"

Smiling, Beverly shook the ambassador's offered hand, and found herself swept up in the crowd of dignitaries and officials all vying for the opportunity to be seen with her.

***

Riker sighed as he eyed the crowd on the stage. "I was hoping we could get up there and surprise her," he gestured at the milling mass surrounding their friend.

"And look," Deanna added, "the crowd trying to get onto the stage is huge too."

Geordi sighed, "we'll never get through."

Worf grumbled. "You give up too easily." Staring at each of his friends, he said, "if you wish to see the doctor, follow me."

The crowds in the aisle parted as the burly Klingon made his way toward the stage. Grinning at one another, the rest of the crew followed along in his wake.

***

"I'm sorry, sir," intoned the tired functionary at the bottom of the stairs, "but unless you have a VIP pass, I cannot let you onto the stage."

Worf eyed the man, apparently deciding on how to best dismember him, when Picard stepped forward.

"Excuse me, um, Terrence," he said, reading the man's name tag. "I'm sure you could make an exception for us."

Putting on his most diplomatic face, Jean-Luc Picard entered some of the most challenging negotiations he had ever participated in during his fifty years in Starfleet. Shocked, and mildly horrified at the dedication with which Terrence guarded the stairs leading onto the stage, the crew were relieved when he finally acquiesced and agreed to allow the captain to pass.

Reaching to unlock and open the gate, Picard placed a hand over his and smiled, "don't trouble yourself, I can handle this."

Picard shifted his stance so that he was between Terrence and the gate and gestured for the others to precede him up the stairs.

"Wait!" Terrence cried. "I never agreed to let them in!"

"We are all responsible for the safety and well-being of the captain," Worf glowered, towering over Terrence. "If something were to happen to him because you prevented us from doing our duty, I would be forced to hold you personally responsible."

Gulping and thinking that his job wasn't worth this type of stress, Terrence simply shrugged and allowed the troupe to pass.

"Thank you, Terrence," Picard said as he carefully closed the gate behind himself. "I can assure you that your flexibility in this matter is greatly appreciated."

***

The crowd on the stage seemed endless as Beverly smiled and shook hands with one delegate after another. Trying not to be obvious about it, she continued to scan the audience, hoping to catch a glimpse of her friends.

Realizing the futility of looking for her friends in a theatre with over twenty-thousand seats, Beverly began to wonder who would have beamed down to hear her speak. _Jean-Luc and Deanna for sure_, she thought. _Probably Data. Will too, if he's still planning on surprising me._ _Worf and Geordi probably skipped the presentation and plan on catching up with me later_.

She was pleasantly surprised, when moments later, she saw her Klingon friend working his way toward her.

Grinning from ear to ear, and no longer paying attention to the beings whose hands she was currently shaking, she perched on her toes in an effort to catch a glimpse of Jean-Luc. Spying Riker's distinctive beard, she quickly located Data as well, but was frustrated by the number of bodies preventing her from spotting him.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Beverly watched Worf make his way closer. She kept her attention on him as he served as an easily visible marker for Jean-Luc's position in the crowd. She tried to engage in polite conversation with the people she was introduced to, but she was beginning to think she would go crazy if she had to exchange pleasantries with even one more dignitary.

"Looking for someone?" rumbled a familiar baritone startlingly close to her right ear.

"Jean-Luc!" gasped Beverly as she spun around to greet her friend.

Hazel met blue, and the rest of the universe disappeared. A million thoughts flitted through Beverly's mind as she feasted on Jean-Luc's smiling countenance.

_Some of those thoughts are definitely not appropriate to be thinking about your friend_, she admonished herself. To cover up her discomfiture at having such ideas rush to the forefront, Beverly grabbed Jean-Luc in a tight hug and whispered in his ear, "I missed you."

Jean-Luc replied, "I missed you too."

Beverly pulled back from the embrace and searched his face, certain she had heard more in those words than he intended.

Captain's mask firmly in place, Jean-Luc smiled at her. Shaking her head, and blaming her own thoughts for reading more into things than was obviously there, Beverly smiled in return.

"Excuse me, Doctor," she felt a hand on her arm. "If I could present the foremost specialist in neuro-regeneration from Polaris IX…"

"Of course," she replied as she reluctantly let go of Jean-Luc. Turning back to face the delegates still waiting for a chance to meet her, she whispered, "stay with me."

"Always," he said as he stood reassuringly close.

***

Deanna marvelled at the social and political connections the captain possessed; not only were she, Will, and Data at the dinner with him, but the four had somehow become official delegates to the conference. As the official representatives of Starfleet, they had been accorded prime seats near the head table.

During one particularly heated discussion about the effects of the mass of neutron stars on the rate of orbital decay of planetary satellites, Deanna let her eyes and mind wander around the room. The dinner itself was wrapping up, and some of the attendees were taking their after-dinner drinks and moving to other tables to visit.

Expecting to see a small crowd gathering at the head table, Deanna was surprised to find the table almost deserted. Looking around the room, she noted several of the people seated at the head table had moved to mingle with the other guests.

However, there was one person she couldn't immediately see.

Letting her empathic senses guide her vision, she found Beverly standing at the coffee service. Smiling to herself, Deanna watched as Beverly tried to distance herself from a rather ardent admirer. Thinking to share the scene with the captain, she was surprised to look over and find his seat at the table empty.

Casting a confused look at Will Riker, he grinned and gestured with his head toward the wall where she had just been watching Beverly. Taking in the scene again, she almost laughed out loud.

It appeared as though two Starfleet officers were enjoying a cordial chat while they stirred and sipped their coffee. The fact that one of the officers was the guest of honour, and that no one was willing to interrupt the pair to speak to her, spoke volumes about Jean-Luc Picard's command presence.

***

He had no idea how much he truly missed her until he was sitting at the table, watching her but unable to speak with her. It was an exquisite torture to be so close, yet so far, and it drove him almost to distraction.

Even though he gave the appearance of engaging in the discussions around the table, his attention never wavered from her. So, as soon as she moved from her seat, he knew he had to follow. He had to speak with her, even if only for a few moments. Quietly slipping away from the table, Jean-Luc made a direct line for her.

***

She watched him throughout the dinner. No matter how tedious the discussions around her became, she found respite in watching him. She knew every gesture he used: the smile to put others at ease, the nod to encourage the speaker to continue, and the hand movement to emphasize a point.

She longed to be near him, to hear his voice, to claim that smile for her own. Noticing the other members of the head table mingling, she rose from her seat, intent on going to his table.

Waylaid by several guests, Beverly found herself next to the coffee service. Knowing that any further attempts to cross the room would be futile, she poured herself a cup of coffee and prepared to wait. She knew he would come.

***

"May I?" Jean-Luc asked as he gestured toward the empty coffee cups behind her.

"Of course," she replied, barely shifting her position, forcing him to lean into her to reach the handle of the nearest cup.

Deliberately brushing her thigh against his, Beverly leaned behind him to grab the cream. "Excuse me."

"Thank you." He allowed his arm to slide down hers as he positioned his cup to accept her offer to pour.

"Spoon?" Her fingers gently played across his as she passed him the flatware.

"Thank you."

Maintaining the outward appearance of professionalism, they each found subtle ways to make up for the emptiness caused by their eighty-seven days of separation.

"It was a lovely meal," Jean-Luc commented as he allowed her elbow to brush his chest.

"Yes," Beverly nodded. "It was." Looking closely at his tunic, Beverly pretended to find a speck of something, and reached over to brush it off. Her fingers lingered on the fabric a fraction of a second longer than was necessary.

"Your presentation today was extraordinary," he replied, trailing his hand up her back after placing his spoon on the table.

"Thank you," Beverly smiled, "knowing I had friends in the audience helped." She brushed her arm against his as she set her cup down.

"You really are a very engaging speaker," Jean-Luc continued. "I couldn't keep my eyes off you."

Surprised by his words, Beverly brought her cup back to her lips to hide her confusion. Gazing at him over the rim of her cup, she found herself staring into a pair of very intense hazel eyes.

Audibly swallowing, Beverly searched for a reply as the tension between them steadily increased, "Well, um--"

"Hey there, doc!" Will Riker called as he approached the couple. "You're turning into quite the diplomat; wining and dining with all these important personages," he grinned mischievously.

_And if I weren't such a diplomat, I'd throttle you right now_, Beverly thought as she smiled at the man who had deliberately interrupted their conversation.

Instead, she said, "thanks, Will." Glancing at Jean-Luc she added, "I've learned from the best."

"Oh, yes, the Captain is a very accomplished diplomat," Will chuckled. "Let me tell you how we managed to get onto the stage today."

"Number One, I don't think--" Jean-Luc interrupted as Will tried to steer Beverly back into the crowd.

Will looked over his shoulder as he replied, "I'm sure Doctor Crusher will love hearing the story."

"Besides," he added, smiling slyly, "her fans await. You can't keep her all to yourself, Captain." With that, Riker expertly guided Beverly back into the throng of dinner guests.

***

Beverly added the fifty-first option to her mental list of ways to kill Will Riker as she shook hands with another delegate. He knew she hated making small talk, yet here he was, apparently intent on making sure she spoke with every single person in the room.

She was fuming. Not only was he forcing her to keep a smile plastered on her face, he was enjoying every minute of it.

"You're doing this on purpose," she hissed during a brief interlude between 'people she just had to meet.'

Feigning innocence, Will said, "I have no idea what you're talking about." Glancing around the room, he looked back at her, "come on. I see someone you just have to meet." Gripping her elbow more firmly, he grinned, "he's the waiter who served me the salad tonight."

Sighing to herself, Beverly added a slow and agonizingly painful option number fifty-two to her list.

***

Revenge complete, Riker brought an exhausted Beverly over to the table where Picard, Troi, and Data were sitting, chatting quietly amongst themselves. Gracefully slipping into a chair, Beverly grabbed the pitcher of water from the centre of the table and poured herself a drink.

She took several large sips, sighed, and leaned back in her chair. Smiling at her friends, she said, "I hate these functions."

As she watched the servers trying to unobtrusively clean up the almost empty room, Beverly fought down her rising disappointment. "I finally get a chance to visit with my friends," she grimaced, "and the evening's almost over."

"You could always come back to the _Enterprise_ for a quick nightcap." Deanna suggested, suppressing a knowing smile.

Beverly shook her head. "I better not," she said. "I received word before dinner that my next transport is leaving at 0600 hours."

"Doctor," Data tilted his head as he spoke, "you can beam aboard your transport from the _Enterprise_ as easily as from the planet."

"Come on, Beverly," Deanna added. "You know a night in your own bed would do you good."

As she thought about her quarters and the comfort of her own bed, a wave of homesickness threatened to overcome her. "Alright," she acquiesced, "but I have to get my things before I can beam up."

***

They walked in silence along the corridors of the conference centre. Jean-Luc had offered to accompany her while Will, Deanna, and Data had opted to return to the ship.

Something was different, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Analyzing her thoughts and feelings as they walked, she tried to get to the root of the problem. She understood the feelings of happiness and contentedness, and chalked them up as normal reactions to being reunited with her best friend. Beverly even understood her need for close physical proximity; it was a natural physiological response designed to both reassure her brain that her friend really was there, and to rekindle the intimate closeness they had enjoyed during their day-to-day interactions.

What she didn't understand were the other, harder to define thoughts and feelings their reunion was generating. There had always been an underlying attraction permeating their friendship; one that neither openly acknowledged, though both were acutely aware. She was sure that was not what was affecting her tonight.

What she was feeling tonight went well beyond attraction. Her reaction to the presence of Jean-Luc was strong, magnetic, and almost visceral in nature. Despite her best efforts to control it, her body was responding to his proximity in ways she hadn't experienced in years.

No matter how firmly her brain argued in favour of keeping their friendship the way it was, her body countered with a stronger, more primal need that clearly stated that friendship was no longer enough.

She was shocked to realize she was lusting after her best friend. Beverly was even more shocked when she realized she intended to do something about it.

***

Blushing slightly, Beverly made a beeline for the bedroom as soon as they reached her accommodations. "I'll just be a minute," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared. "I never had the chance to unpack."

"Take your time, doctor," Jean-Luc replied.

Beverly paused as she emerged from her sleeping area. She admired the fit of his dress uniform as he wandered around the compact and austere quarters.

"You're right," he said as she moved into the living area, "these accommodations leave a lot to be desired."

Her breath caught in her throat. He stood partially illuminated by the moonlight entering through the window, unaware of the effect he was having on her. When he smiled at his own joke, she needed every ounce of strength she possessed to remain standing as her knees turned to jelly.

"Beverly?" he tried.

_It's now or never_, she thought as she nervously licked her lips. _Besides_, she smiled wryly, _I'm leaving again for another seven weeks. That'll give me plenty of time to review my career options_.

Having made her decision, she dropped her case, closed the space between them in three quick strides, grabbed his head, and kissed him with a passion neither expected.

Beverly felt him stiffen in shock. To her relief, his initial reaction was quickly replaced with an ardour that matched her own. Within moments she was pressed up against the wall, panting breathlessly.

Words were not required as they gazed into each other's eyes. She had the answer to her question. Smiling, she leaned in for another, more relaxed and languorous kiss.

She felt alive – truly alive. It didn't matter that she was standing in cramped and drab accommodations; his arms, and the way they caressed and held her, were all that mattered.

Beverly groaned when Jean-Luc broke their kiss. "Jean-Luc," she gasped as he trailed kisses down her throat.

"Jean-Luc," she tried again, finding it hard to think coherently. "Jean-Luc, we need to get back to the ship. People are going to wonder what's taking us so long."

"Beverly?"

"Think of it as a new beginning," she replied as she tenderly ran her hand down his cheek. Grinning seductively, she added, "and think of this, my dear captain," she covered his mouth with hers and pressed her entire frame against him, "as a promise of things to come."

***

Beverly walked into Ten Forward and quickly located her friends sitting at a table near the viewports. Striding over, she smiled as she joined Deanna, Will, Data, Worf, and Geordi.

"Where's the captain?" asked Deanna as Beverly took her seat.

"Oh," she replied. "He offered to drop my luggage off at my quarters so I could come straight here. He should be here shortly."

Beverly had just finished placing her drink order when the doors to the lounge opened again and Jean-Luc strode through. Taking the empty seat on Beverly's right, he greeted each of his senior officers.

The seven officers talked, laughed, and joked, enjoying each other's company. It wasn't until Deanna noticed that Beverly was struggling to keep her eyes open that the evening began to wind down. Saying their farewells, and wishing Beverly good luck on the rest of her speaking tour, five people smiled fondly as their captain offered Beverly his arm and gallantly escorted her from the lounge.

***

"Deck eight," Picard requested as they entered the turbolift.

It wasn't until they stepped into his quarters that she realized he hadn't followed the usual routine of walking her back to hers. Arching a questioning eyebrow, Beverly smiled at the man standing before her.

"I'm simply finishing what you began earlier," he whispered as he took her in his arms and began to nuzzle her neck.

She chuckled at the irony of coming on board the _Enterprise_ and not actually getting to enjoy the comfort of her own quarters. _Mind you_, she thought as she felt Jean-Luc reach for the fastener on her dress uniform, _if he keeps this up, I doubt I'll be getting much sleep anyway._

***

Beverly stretched luxuriously as she slowly returned to wakefulness. Feeling the familiar thrum of the _Enterprise's_ warp engines under the deck, she smiled contentedly as she sat up in bed. Glancing out the viewport, she admired the stars streaking by at warp speed.

"Shit!" she swore as she leapt out of the bed and began to throw on her uniform.

"You would think," she muttered to herself as she frantically tried to locate her left boot, "they would have had the sense to make sure I had disembarked before leaving orbit."

Vainly brushing the wrinkles out of her dress uniform top, she continued, "why the hell didn't the alarm go off? Of all the damn times for the computer to malfunction," she griped as she flew across the captain's living area, heading for his communications terminal while trying to fasten her uniform jacket.

"Now I'll have to make my own arrangements," she ran her fingers through her hair, attempting to put it in some kind of order before placing her call to Starfleet Command.

"Good morning, doctor."

Beverly almost leapt out of her skin at the unexpected voice. Looking over, she saw Jean-Luc sitting on the sofa, book in hand.

"Jean-Luc!" she replied, still confused about her situation. "What the hell?"

"Would you like some breakfast?" he smiled as he gestured toward the table where croissants and steaming coffee awaited.

"Jean-Luc!" she cried, furious that he could be so calm at a time like this. "How can you just sit there? I've missed my transport! There's going to be hell to pay, and I'm going to look like an idiot when I call Command."

"Relax," he replied as he moved to stand by the desk. "You haven't missed your ship."

He spoke before she could launch into another tirade, "I didn't tell you everything when I said I pulled some strings to get the _Enterprise_ to Tarvan IV.

"I had to call in a lot of favours," he smiled, "but the flagship of the Federation is your personal transport for the week-long journey to the Calvanes Sector."

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" she grumbled as she swatted him on the shoulder. "I almost had a heart attack."

Grinning lasciviously, he replied, "I had other- things- on my mind last night, I apologize."

She blushed slightly as images of the previous evening's activities came to mind. Running her fingers along his chest, she moved past him.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"To take a shower," she called over her shoulder. "Then I'm going to change into a clean uniform and join you for breakfast."

_Home_, she thought. Relishing the idea of being on board for a week with no assigned duties, Beverly began to plan her itinerary. _I'm going to lock myself in the lab for a few hours, give the plants in my quarters a good trimming, and top the day off with a luxurious bubble bath_. After weeks of boredom, she couldn't resist the thought, _I wonder if Selar will let me take a few shifts…_

Beverly had most of her uniform top off by the time she reached the door to his bedroom. Glancing back, she saw Jean-Luc return to his seat on the sofa.

"Speaking of which," she asked, noting his casual dress with a look. "Why aren't you on the bridge?"

"I took the day off," he explained.

Her jaw dropped in astonishment.

Jean-Luc added, "I figured someone had to be here when you finally crawled out of bed, and," he smiled, eyes twinkling, "I thought, perhaps, you would enjoy some company on the first day of your vacation."

"Vacation?"

"Vacation, doctor," he replied firmly. "You know, the thing you're always pestering me to take?"

"But--" she protested.

"No buts," he interrupted. "Dr. Selar is performing admirably as acting CMO and the _Enterprise_ is on a routine diplomatic mission. There's no need for you to report for duty."

"_You_," he added for emphasis, "are on vacation."

Beverly crossed her arms over her chest as she studied Jean-Luc's smug smile. Rapidly revising her earlier itinerary, she smiled mischievously. "Well, if you're going to keep me company, maybe you should take the week off too."

Beverly watched his eyes widen in surprise at her suggestion.

Jean-Luc replied, "I have duties--"

"Commander Riker is performing admirably as your First Officer and the _Enterprise_ is on a routine diplomatic mission. There's no need for you to report for duty either." She grinned, throwing his words back at him.

"You can't order me--" he wavered.

"No," she smiled seductively as she sauntered over and straddled his lap. Running her hands down his chest and placing her lips against his throat, she purred, "but I bet I could persuade you."


	2. Sequel Revenge is Best Served Cold

Beverly absently gazed out the viewports in Ten Forward while she waited for her friend to join her for lunch. She was looking forward to spending some time with Deanna, but she was also feeling apprehensive as she wasn't ready to divulge the new state of her relationship with Jean-Luc just yet.

_Hence the incredibly spicy Xartean seafood dish for lunch_, she thought as she placed another forkful in her mouth. Beverly had discovered purely by chance that the sensory impact of highly spicy foods limited Deanna's abilities to empathically sense her other thoughts. The strength of the heat and spice was enough to block out anything else the Betazoid might accidentally pick up.

"Oh my, Beverly!" Deanna gasped as she joined her friend at the table. "How can you eat that? I can feel the heat from here!" Dampening her empathic senses to avoid the onslaught of fire and near pain coming from her friend, she placed her order for a much more bland luncheon dish.

Beverly smiled, "It's good. Ever since I was pregnant with Wesley I've loved hot foods."

_It's particularly good_, she thought as she chewed, _since you can't sense what I'm thinking_.

"Were you two ladies talking about me?" Will Riker joked as he sat down at their table. "I heard you mention that you found someone very hot."

Deanna laughed, "No Will, Beverly was discussing her lunch choice."

Looking at Beverly's plate, Will commented, "Xartean sea bass, right?"

Only midly surprised that he would recognize the rather obscure dish, Beverly nodded.

"That's not that spicy," Will replied. "You should try some of the dishes I've come across. There was one dish, Urellian I think, that was so spicy it could make your eyeballs sweat."

"You know," Beverly commented, "I think I may have tried that. It's mostly vegetables with a wickedly potent green sauce, right?"

Will nodded, impressed.

Smiling conspiratorially, Beverly leaned toward him and said, "I agree that dish was hot, but it's nothing compared to one I tried at the medical conference on Argealis Prime."

"Oh?"

"Yes," Beverly nodded. "It was so hot, I could only manage one small sip."

Intrigued, Will asked, "What was it?"

"A soup. Apparently it is a traditional dish served by a small indigenous population on Argealis," Beverly replied. "They believe it possesses mystical healing properties."

"I'll have to try it sometime," Will remarked.

Trying not to smile too broadly as she reeled him in, Beverly replied, "Oh, I doubt even you could handle it. No one at the conference took more than a single taste."

Will Riker tried to hide a smile. _It sounds like a little wager is in order_, he thought.

"I don't know, doctor," he said, "I bet I could eat a bowl of it."

Beverly had to take another bite of sea bass to avoid laughing out loud. _This is going to be too easy_, she chuckled inwardly. Raising her eyebrow, she asked, "A bet?" She tried to look suspicious as she added, "What stakes?"

Will grinned devilishly and looked over at Deanna, "What do you think?"

"Will," Deanna warned, waving her arms, "I don't want anything to do with this. You can get into all the trouble you want – by yourself. Leave me out of this."

"Alright," he said. "Spoil sport." Looking back at Beverly he smirked, "How's your Klingon?"

"A little rusty," Beverly replied wearily. "Why?"

"I was thinking the loser has to recite a Klingon love poem," he smiled evilly, "chosen by the winner."

Beverly was convinced there had to be more to the bet, so she leaned back and crossed her arms. She didn't have long to wait.

"And," Will finished, "the recital has to be here, in Ten Forward, during the dinner hour tonight."

Beverly was nonplussed about performing a Klingon love ballad in front of the crew. It wasn't the public speaking portion that worried her, but rather the poem Will was bound to choose if he won. Somehow she doubted he would pick one of the less explicit ones.

_Of course_, she considered, _he has to win first, and that won't be as easy as he thinks_.

Will watched Beverly as she mulled over his proposal. He figured her acceptance would hinge on exactly how spicy she thought the Argeallian soup really was. Envisioning her standing on the dais, reciting one of the raunchiest love poems he could find, made him fervently hope the soup was hotter than the midday sun on Vulcan.

"Alright," she said, offering her hand. "It's a deal. Winner chooses the poem, and loser recites it for the dinner crowd tonight."

Grinning from ear to ear, Will rubbed his hands gleefully together and signalled for a waiter.

His grin faded somewhat when he was presented with a small bowl filled with a greasy looking gelatinous purple goo.

Beverly laughed, "Eat up, Will. You don't want to let it get warm. I've been told it tastes far better cold."

Will quickly revised the list of poems he would choose from as he picked up his spoon. Taking the first sip, he had to force himself not to cry out.

"That," he coughed, "has got quite a punch."

Deanna was horrified at the pain Will was enduring in order to win a bet. Hoping Beverly would let him back out now that her point had been made, she was disappointed to hear her friend goad Will into continuing.

"So," Beverly grinned, "would you care to know which poem I've chosen for you?"

Will put down the spoon and raised the bowl to his lips in answer. Steeling himself for the tremendous fire that was about to rage across his tongue and down his throat, he took a deep breath and drained the bowl as quickly as his tortured larynx would allow.

Suppressing a whimper, and trying to force a smile onto his agonized features, Will replied, "You were saying?"

Beverly looked disappointed. While she was not happy about losing this bet, she felt satisfied that her revenge was worth it. Trying not to chuckle, she replied, "I will await your choice with baited breath."

Deanna pushed her plate away and leaned over to Will, "We need to be getting back to the bridge."

Will nodded and began to rise.

"I think I'll join you for a little while," Beverly said as she rose. "If that's okay with you," she added, looking at Will.

"That would be fine, doctor," he croaked. "It will save me having to search for you when I decide on tonight's entertainment."

Smiling contentedly to herself, Beverly followed the couple into the corridor.

***

The first twenty minutes of their return to the bridge were completely uneventful. Aside from Will's frequent attempts to surreptitiously rub his throat, nothing seemed unusual. The next few minutes however, were far from ordinary.

Letting out a strangled gasp, Will tightened his grip on the arm rests of his chair.

"Number One?" Picard looked over at his First Officer.

"Nothing, sir," he replied through gritted teeth.

Gasping again as his insides were wracked with another wave of intense cramping, he answered Picard's next inquiry while staring pointedly at Beverly Crusher. "It seems," he winced, "that my lunch may not be agreeing with me."

_Oh, if you think that's bad_, she thought as she batted her lashes innocently, _wait a few moments longer_.

On cue, Will let out a groan and lunged to his feet. "Excuse me, sir," he grimaced as he broke out in a cold sweat.

_I'm going to kill her_, he thought as he felt his intestines roll again.

Deanna watched Will make his way off the bridge, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, while obviously wanting desperately to run. Leaning over to Beverly, she said, "I thought you mentioned that dish was supposed to possess healing qualities."

"Oh yes," Beverly replied, trying not to laugh. "The efficacy of the Argeallian soup has been studied in-depth and repeatedly proven."

Deanna suddenly realised Beverly had hoped she would lose the bet in Ten Forward. "You tricked him!" she whispered.

"I don't know what you mean," Beverly almost giggled.

"What _exactly_," Deanna demanded, "does the soup do?"

"Commander Riker," Beverly explained in her most serious doctor voice, "is experiencing a very _safe_, very vigorous, very thorough, and very rapid colon cleanse."

Deanna groaned. Finally able to make sense of the wild mix of emotions thrown off by Will just before he left the bridge, she found herself feeling sorry for him. _I do feel badly for him_, she thought as her lips began to twitch. _Really, I do_, she stifled a giggle as she looked at her best friend.

Locking eyes, the two women were suddenly thrown into a fit of laughter. They each had to wipe tears from their eyes as they brought their guffaws under control. Control enforced upon them by a stern, "Counsellor! Doctor!" delivered by the captain.

"Sorry, sir," Deanna replied, trying not to giggle.

"Yes, Captain," Beverly added, failing to keep a straight face, "I do apologize."

Pale, and slightly shaky, Will Riker resumed his seat on the bridge.

Her laughter under control, Deanna quietly asked Beverly, "Is it over? He seems to be feeling better."

"It's not over yet," Beverly smiled. "The purges come in cycles. But don't worry, he'll be fine in about six hours."

"At least I'll be feeling better in time for your performance tonight," Will gamely countered.

"Performance?" inquired Picard.

"Yes, sir," said Riker. "Doctor Crusher has decided to entertain the crew with her stunning rendition of a selection of Klingon poetry."

Eyebrows raised in surprise, the captain turned to his CMO, "Klingon poetry? You never told me you enjoyed Klingon poetry." He paused, noticing the pointed look Beverly was giving his First Officer, "I will most definitely have to see this performance."

Smiling as the first hints of discomfort crossed Will's face, Beverly grinned. "I have always found the Klingons to be a source of wit and wisdom."

"Indeed," replied Jean-Luc.

"After all," she added as Riker began to squirm slightly, "didn't they coin the phrase, 'Revenge is a _soup_ best served cold'?"

Will groaned and was about to leave again when Beverly abruptly stood and said, "Well, I think my work here is done. If you need me, I'll be helping Dr. Selar with the annual inventory in sickbay."

***

It took three hours, but Will Riker finally worked up the courage to go to sickbay. He carried the text of the poem he expected Beverly to read in one hand, and used the other to guide his tender body along the corridor.

Entering the medical facility in the hope of finding some relief, he was disturbed to find only Dr. Crusher on the floor. She looked up from calibrating the tricorders and approached him.

"Can I help you?' she asked.

"The better question would be," Will groaned, "will you help me?"

"Of course," she replied.

"You can make this stop?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And you will?" he replied, slightly disbelievingly.

"Yes."

Will looked into her blue eyes and saw humour. Humour and something else. Something that looked an awful lot like cold, calculating vengeance.

"On one condition," Beverly smiled.

Will groaned again, but not from the roiling pain in his guts. "Let me guess, no Klingon poetry tonight, right?"

"Oh no, Will," she laughed. "You won that bet fair and square. I will gladly perform tonight."

"Then what?" he asked, puzzled.

"You have to perform with me."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," she replied as she prepared a hypospray. "I want us to do a duet. I want us to perform the famous ballad between Kayhless and his lover."

"That doesn't seem too bad," he cautiously offered, watching her toy with the cure for his ailment.

"Did I mention I want to do it in full costume?" she grinned.

"Costume?"

"Yes," Beverly replied. "Oh, and one more thing," she leaned forward to make sure he was looking at her, "I want to be Kayhless."

Suddenly, Will didn't know which was worse, the colon cleanse, or the cure.

***

The crowd in Ten Forward leapt to its feet in a resounding standing ovation as the two people on stage took their bows. Wearing a very provocative Klingon outfit that left little to the imagination, Will Riker did not look quite as happy as his heavily armoured companion.

"That was fabulous," Deanna cried as she hugged them both. "Will, you were a riot! And Beverly, your performance is going to be talked about for weeks!"

"Thank you," Beverly replied, still slightly breathless from the final scene where she screamed her rage into the heavens.

"I agree," added Jean-Luc as he came to stand beside Beverly. "That was a truly inspired rendition of an epic love poem."

"And you," he whispered, leaning in so no one else could hear, "are the sexiest Klingon warrior I have ever seen."

Blushing slightly, Beverly whispered back, "Wait until you see what I'm _not_ wearing under this armour."

Jean-Luc was about to reply when she and Will were dragged away into the crowd of well-wishers waiting to congratulate them.

***

Very few eyebrows were raised as the captain strolled through the corridors with a slim Klingon warrior on his arm. Beverly had long since removed the wig, moustache, beard, and false eyebrows, leaving her long red hair to flow over the dark costume beneath.

Contemplating the woman on his arm, Jean-Luc thought, _I can't help it. I find her thoroughly bewitching in that outfit_. Wondering what awaited him beneath the layers of leather and armour, he was glad when they reached the doors to her quarters.

Beverly looked at him and offered her usual question, "Would you care to come in for a nightcap?"

Jean-Luc grinned as he accepted her invitation, knowing tonight's nightcap would be very different from any he had ever experienced in her quarters.

He allowed the doors to close before he took her into his arms. He breathed deeply, taking in her scent. He found her perfume, mingled with the smell of sweat and leather, extremely arousing. Unintentionally recalling his most recent holodeck horse ride as he ran his hands across the supple leather of her armour, Jean-Luc chuckled to himself as he thought, _my riding crop really wouldn't be terribly out of place here either_.

Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, he growled as he nuzzled her neck, "So how does one undress the most revered Klingon warrior in history?"

Eyes glinting with laughter and desire, Beverly replied, "Very quickly."

They both laughed as she led him into her bedroom.


End file.
